Christine's walking & birds blog

Yesterday: Ben Wyvis (for the third time!)

We went up to find out if we can still manage a hill of Munro height, and for a chance to see dotterel.  My heart sank as we drew into the car park to find it already half full; with so many walkers ahead of us, there would probably be little chance of seeing anything. Going up through the plantations we saw or heard siskins, coal tits and wrens. This is probably a caterpillar of the oak eggar moth.


The cloud descended early on, and soon we had no views. Reaching the first top (An Cabar), we sat in the roughly-built shelter and ate our sandwiches. Two wheatears were running about in the seeding grasses, one at least of them a juvenile.


Then came the 2 kilometre-walk along the broad ridge, following the directions given on the sign.


It's all for a good cause. This is a very popular mountain, and the vegetation found here delicate and vulnerable. It's not only beautiful in its own right, it's also vital for dotterel. I think this is woolly hair moss, with the tiny white flowers and leaf-whorls of heath bedstraw.


As we reached the summit, the clouds rolled away as if by magic and we had views that stretched almost from coast to coast.


Behind Greger, the Cromarty Firth and the Moray Firth open into the North Sea. Okay, we couldn't actually see the coastline on the west side, but the misty hill on the skyline to the left is Beinn Mor Coigach - which rises from the shores of the Atlantic Ocean.


We weren't intending to do the round walk this time but continued on for a short distance, hoping to see dotterel where we saw them in May last year, just above the col. But there was nothing, only a couple of meadow pipits. I looked longingly ahead, wishing I could walk and walk - both for the walking itself and to find dotterel - but these days we have to cut our coat according to our cloth, keeping the long descent in mind, and knowing when we should turn back.


We returned to the summit and had a coffee and a chocolate bar. A man came striding up very fast, touched the trig point pillar and said triumphantly "One hour forty-nine minutes!" He asked Greger to take his photo, and set off back down soon afterwards. Sorry we kept you.

Each to his or her own, I suppose. Personally, I can't spend long enough in these gorgeous places. This is a patch of dwarf willow, or - to my mind a nicer name - least willow. I didn't know it at the time, and it took me ages afterwards to pin down the species.


I naughtily left the path here to look out over the huge grassy corrie where ravens were tumbling (but I think that's okay as long as you don't actually follow the other path that I tiptoed across). The cloud lay very level all round, although here and there you could see a vaporous grey smear where it was raining.


We set off down, passing more people on their way up. Across the Bealach Mor is Little Wyvis, one of the Corbetts (hills 2,500 ft and higher but below 3,000 ft).


Going down was quite hard. The constructed path is great but some of the steps are pretty deep, and I had to turn sideways to avoid bending my knee unduly. Greger's feet were hurting. People who had been coming up as we started our descent had obviously got to the top and turned, and were now overtaking us with cheerful greetings. Back down by the stream, I spent some minutes snapping some tiny "fish" which turned out to be water weeds. Several oak eggar moth caterpillars were dead on the path, as was a golden-ringed dragonfly. I kept looking up hoping for a red kite as we sometimes spot them in the area when driving past, but all I could see was a trio of fledged dunnocks.


Greger went ahead while I dawdled along, until a blueberry plant stopped me in my tracks. I ate several blueberries - or blaeberries, or bilberries, depending on where you come from.


The walk was 16.5 km. Ben Wyvis is 1046 metres, but as the car park is located on the 150m contour, you do around 896m. However, according to Greger's new Garmin gadget, our total ascent was 1018m thanks to the extra walk down from the summit and back again. We were very tired, but we had done it. And if disappointed by the absence of more special birds, I was pleased to see the wheatears. They're always a welcome sight, and on this occasion they presented a new species for us on Ben Wyvis. Birds don't know it, but even the smallest can lift the spirits of us earthbound humans.